


Burnt Me to the Ground

by Nikki373



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Coffee Shops, Crack Relationships, Crack-Pairing, Eventual Smut, Eventual Sterek (sort of), F/F, Femslash, Fire, Fireworks, Fluff, Headcanon, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Internalized Homophobia, My crack-pairing became my OTP, Not A Fix-It, Not My Fault, Pre-Hale Fire, Romance, Soulmates, Supernatural Ladies, Tags Are Hard, This is the real reason Derek and Laura survived the Hale Fire, Yes I swear there is fluff!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 00:29:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3589533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikki373/pseuds/Nikki373
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh, do you?” she asked, voice slipping just a tone lower into something that skirted the edge of suggestive. The woman’s finger traced the edge of her own coffee cup as she added, green eyes pinning Laura to the booth, “And why is that?”</p>
<p>Pulled by the invisible grip of sudden, unexpected intensity, Laura leaned forward, elbows braced casually against the table. “If you need to ask, then you’ll never understand,” she replied, words flirting with the line between taunting and teasing.  </p>
<p>The woman laughed, breaking the tension even as her eyes stayed bright with a dark variation on amusement. "I like you.” Sticking out her hand, she introduced herself, "Kate."</p>
<p>Taking the proffered hand, she replied with a smile of her own, "Laura."</p>
<p>(AKA: How my 500-word crack-drabble became my 25+k OTP fic…Seriously, they've taken over my head cannon.  Someone call for backup.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pyrokinesis and Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> While this crack(?)fic is admittedly finished already, I'm posting it in chapters because I'm too lazy to edit the entire thing all at once. ^.^ Anyway, I'll be updating with a new chapter each weekend, so thank you for your patience.
> 
> And thanks for reading!

It was just another foggy, rain-scented morning when Laura rolled out of bed to the sounds of her mother’s voice carrying through the house. Stumbling along the hall and down a long string of uncooperative stairs, she lumbered into the kitchen, blearily eyeing her brother shuffle under the weight of their mother’s stern glower. Like the endearing, adorable pup he was, Derek was grinning from ear to ear as she reprimanded him – something about curfews, broken windows, and being sixteen. It was the kind of Alpha-to-pack, red-eyed scolding that they all tried to avoid. So, his irrepressible, manic grin was starkly out of character. Or rather, that uncontainable, flushed glee would have been suspiciously strange, if not for the accompanying smell of cum and giddy excitement.

She could tell by the slight twitch of her mother’s nose (and the condom on the counter between them) that they’d already been over the ‘safer sex’ and ‘enthusiastic consent’ talks this morning. And Laura was just glad to have missed that part of the conversation, mostly because her absence meant she would get to corner him later and pry out a name.

Specifically, THE name – the one that Derek was being so unusually, frustratingly tight-lipped about.

About two weeks ago, Laura caught Derek trying to sneak in from the back door to the upstairs bathroom. Well, she'd almost caught him - he was quick for a lanky tangle of limbs, and Laura hadn’t been quite flexible enough to catch him. So, he made it into the bathroom before she could grab and interrogate him about the odd smell clinging to his skin. She did get him once he got out of the shower. After all, he was a teenager and needed to eat sometime. 

In the aftermath of a barrage of questions, he finally confessed to liking this girl he'd met a few months earlier. Apparently, she was ‘gorgeous and mature’ and thought he was ‘sweet and funny’. Other than that, she couldn't get any more information out of him, no matter how or when she tried. Shaking him awake at 5am didn't pry loose the truth. Neither did threats to share this information with Cora, the wickedly tenacious pup of their pack. To warrant that kind of devoted secrecy, this girl must have been really special. 

A few weeks later, Laura had the sudden revelation that the mystery romance might be male. After all, Derek never smelled of perfume or subtle floral scents, exactly. The smell of spicy and subtle, so it could have been a guy – a meticulously clean, well-shaven guy that Derek felt compelled to protect by swapping gender pronouns. Maybe. At any rate, gender was irrelevant in comparison to the suspicious lack of name, picture, or presence at Friday night family dinners. That part struck her as strange, given her brother’s open and honest – if also shy – temperament. Whether this romance was male or female, she wasn’t going to let Derek be anyone’s dirty little secret, either.

Ok, so maybe she wanted a little black mail material too, but when the nameless lady/gent remained a well-kept mystery, Laura started to worry. And when pestering Derek continued turning up nothing but pleading doe-eyes, she started doing some legwork on her own.

When she had even a relatively reasonable excuse to enter the local high school, she stalked through the halls, subtly searching out a matching scent. Although she found Derek more than once, she never found the mystery person. After a few late night puppy puddles, she'd pried a few more words from her brother and came to the conclusion that the person in question really was most likely female. But, for the life of her, she couldn't find this person at Beacon High. 

And that made her nervous.

In some ways, it made sense for a guy to hide the relationship. Beacon Hills wasn’t exactly the most progressive city, and high school was exceptionally cruel to the sweet and marginalized. So, if this mystery lover was male, then the secrecy wasn’t nearly so suspicious. If, however, this mystery lover was female…then that meant there were other elements at play that might lead someone to take advantage of her baby brother.

She started dropping by parks and coffee shops that Derek's teachers frequented, just to see if any of the older women smelled like her younger brother. No hits there either. To make matters worse, the nauseatingly strong stench of coffee stuck to her hair and clothing, masking most human scents in the venues. Her parents and siblings– already overly acquainted with Laura’s adamant, vocal dislike of coffee, both in flavor and smell - were giving her weird, questioning looks. 

This state of unanswered curiosity boiled over at the dinner table a week or two later, eliciting merciless, cruel teasing from her creeper-uncle. He was convinced she was visiting a coffee shop for a boy and was apparently hell-bent on an admission of some sort. Although she certainly tried to ignore the way he baited her with constant, condescending commentary, he was working his way under her skin, like he always did. It was his super-power, or something. 

After a glass of specially-laced wine and one snide comment too many, she snapped across the dining room table, eyes intentionally flashing icy, inhuman blue as she replied in her best I’m-the-alpha-so-back-off voice, “I don’t like dick, Peter.”

There was a deafening pause.

In the wake of cold, uncomfortable realization, Laura’s lips sealed in a thin, angry line, staring her uncle down as his jaw worked in a futile attempt to form what was presumably a comeback. He was gaping like a particularly uncoordinated fish, and in any other circumstances, that blindsided expression would have been hilarious. In fact, it was something of a miracle to make Peter speechless. However, right now, Laura would have traded those eternal bragging rights for four out of the five words that just escaped.

Abruptly, almost all at once, the entire table erupted in variations on “Alright then”, and Laura was left staring down at her plate, blushing a furious shade of red, and hoping the scuffed wood floor would open up and swallow her. She’d had elaborate, mature, sensitive plans for coming out to her family, and none of them involved lashing out at Peter while stalking her little brother’s non-existent, possibly-sketchy lover. The word ‘awkward’ didn’t even begin to cover the creeping itch across her skin. That was not how this conversation was supposed to start. Or end. Of course, now that the words were out of her mouth, it was a little too late to eat them, so she just peered up at her family through dark lashes, as they accepted her orientation like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She wasn’t surprised by this reaction, really; she’d always suspected her parents sort of knew already. 

After all, she’d always been more likely to fight or wrestle (and less likely to kiss) the boys, and around junior year, her mom started asking gender-neutral questions about her love life. That didn’t exclude her from wanting the right timing, and it certainly didn’t mean that she was under any delusion that her traditional grandparents wouldn’t throw a huge fit when they heard. This just meant that her coming out was completely natural in the second-best possible way and that she really, really, really wanted to stab Peter with a red-hot iron poker. 

The next day, a bleary-eyed Talia gave her 'The Lecture' about dating humans: the detailed, lesbian version (most of which Laura was sure her mother got from staying up last night researching and watching porn…there were seriously too many sex-related details). To say the conversation was uncomfortable was an epic understatement, and Peter was absolutely insufferable. 

Thus, by mid-afternoon, Laura found herself sulking in one of Beacon Hills’ Starbucks, glaring at her pretentious cup of coffee as if this was all its fault. She knew better, but it was easier to glare. At this point, she didn't know if she was keeping up the search for Derek's girlfriend or just wallowing in her worries away from prying eyes. So, she narrowed her eyes and gave the coffee her family-patented death-glare. 

"Traditionally, people drink coffee with their mouths instead of setting it on fire with their eyes."

Laura's head jerked up in the direction of the sarcastically amused comment. A gorgeous woman with dirty-blonde curls spilling over her shoulders was leaning against the edge of the booth. Her smile was sharp and she smelled like wrought metal, determination, and something delicate and spiced that Laura couldn't quite place.

If nothing else though, the young alpha-to-be was always good at running her mouth off, so she shot back, all assertive challenge, "What can I say, I have a thing for fire." The light hint of a scent was nagging at her, but the stench of coffee was too strong to distinguish details and she knew better than to overtly sniff up a human.

“Oh, do you?” she asked, voice slipping just a tone lower into something that skirted the edge of suggestive. The woman’s finger traced the edge of her own coffee cup as she added, green eyes pinning Laura to the booth, “And why is that?”

Pulled by the invisible grip of sudden, unexpected intensity, Laura leaned forward, elbows braced casually against the table. “If you need to ask, then you’ll never understand,” she replied, words flirting with the line between taunting and teasing. 

The woman laughed, breaking the tension even as her eyes stayed bright with a dark variation on amusement. "I like you.” Sticking out her hand, she introduced herself, "Kate."

Taking the proffered hand, she replied with a smile of her own, "Laura."

Sliding into the opposite side of the booth in a single, graceful sweep of movement, Kate asked, "Ever considered testing your pyrokinesis on something more flammable? Like, say, something that might actually burn?”

“Who says coffee can’t ‘burn’?” Laura raised one eyebrow in a playful arch, dropping her head just enough to look up across the table through her lashes. “Maybe you just haven’t gotten it hot enough.”

There was the slightest twitch at the corner of the stranger’s lips, smile sharpening a subtle fraction as electrifying tension pulled taunt between them. “I can make things pretty damn hot,” she disagreed, eyes vibrantly bright in their all-consuming intensity.

Laura’s lips split into a grin, unable to help herself, “Then maybe coffee’s just not your medium.”

When that knife-edge smile morphed into a slow, wicked smirk in response, Laura felt heat roll down her spine. Kate inclined her head to acknowledge that assessment, only to add, “If I want it hot, I’ll come to you.” Yeah, yes…ok, please and yes – Laura was so breathtakingly on board with the suggestive gleam in those sea-green eyes. “So why haven’t I seen you around?”

“I hate coffee.” Before Laura could perform either a literal or figurative face-palm at her own blunt response, her companion erupted into a ringing, surprised laugh, seemingly caught off guard both by that response and by her own reaction. In that split second, the woman’s entire expression lit up in the wake of that unexpected – and quite frankly, rather bizarre – answer. Apparently, Kate didn’t seem to mind the obtuse angles of Laura’s decision-making process.

"And yet, you're sitting in a coffee shop..." the woman eventually prompted, open curiosity manifesting in the pout of her pretty lips and tilt of her expressive eyebrows. 

"I'm avoiding my family," Laura answered, with a careless half-shrug of one shoulder. She would have been surprised by her own honesty, but she found herself wanting another sunshine-bright laugh and unexpected truths seemed to be serving her well so far. 

"Always a good policy," Kate agreed, good-natured, less-daggered smile stretching lazily as she leaned back. "They can be so suffocating.” 

Laura snorted. Sure, there was that. "Well, yeah - family can certainly be all-consuming. But this is more like..." She trailed off, trying to come up with an example that was further from reality than the one on the tip of her tongue. But the stupidly pretty stranger was staring at her expectantly, deep green eyes staring her down from under thick, dark lashes. So, of course she drew a blank, mouth opening on instinct rather than intent, "...avoiding the awkwardness of coming out at dinner. By accident." Although the words came out playfully carefree, there was a note of acid in her voice as she recalled the way her asshole of an uncle baited her. 

Kate's eyebrows jumped, seeming to catch themselves en route to her hairline and twitching back down to a more natural position. The casual ease between them evaporated into a raw, uncomfortable tension. As the woman’s jaw worked like she was trying to form an answer to this excessive sharing, Laura just wanted to bridge this sudden, stifling gap, opening her mouth to say something – anything – else. Before she managed to get so much as a word out, the other woman asked, voice deceptively, deliberately casual in comparison to the skip of her heartbeat. “Did they hurt you?”

Did they…what? Those four words and the escalation of Kate’s heartbeat stopped Laura short, knocking any dismissive jokes right out of mind. For several long seconds, the werewolf sat there like a deer in headlights, inhuman senses giving her so much more information than she could process in her blind-sided state.

The unquestionably personal, distant nature of the question, the bitter, acrid stench of fear, the flicker of emotions in such indecipherably rapid succession, the suspiciously controlled, long breaths, the rabbit-quick skip of her human heart…Oh, fuck. That was the reaction of someone who was fighting a trigger – an abusive trigger.

Practically stumbling over her own tongue in an attempt to get the words out faster, Laura barreled through the truth with the first words that came to mind, "No, no. No - they were completely non-plused! I mean, they didn't say that, exactly, but they didn’t…it wasn’t a big deal." The other woman settled back into her chair, strangely perfect composure smoothing over the faint cracks in her controlled expression. "I mean, my grandparents are going to throw a royal fit, and that'll be terrifying. But not – they won’t…” Kate flipped her hair over her shoulder dismissively, as if she was bored of the concept they were hedging around. As if her heart wasn’t still thudding against her ribcage. So, Laura kept going, “They're...traditional, I guess you could call it. And it's not like they run my family, exactly, but they kinda run my family. If that makes sense.”

"Sure,” Kate agreed, a little bit of her poise loosening, as if they might have reached something of an understanding. Or maybe that was just the side effect of changing subjects. “My grandmother was like that before she died. Her approval...meant alot."

As the tension seemed to even out, Laura found herself diving into family drama, just to drag them further from the precipice. "Yeah - their opinion is almost like unspoken law, and nobody really fights it."

"Or at least, no one wins, so it may as well be law." That rejoinder was unexpected, and the werewolf felt a shy sort of smile hesitantly play across her own lips.

They stared at each other in the awkward deterioration of conversation, mutually aware that the topic was laced with discomfort. There was a connection of shared experience lying between them, echoing in the silent lapse of words they’d spoken and implications they hadn’t spoken aloud. To Laura, it felt like there was a world of meaning hanging over their grungy coffee-shop table – like this experience she couldn’t share was already understood. And she didn’t have to struggle with a single half-formed, garbled thought.

As the silence stretched into an expectant sort of glint in Kate’s eyes, Laura asked, "So, how long have you been in Beacon Hills?”

Completely comfortable in abject silence, the woman just stared at her from across the table, and for a moment, Laura thought she wasn't going to get an answer. But after a few conspicuously slow, steady heartbeats, Kate replied, "My family has roots in the area, and I’m working on a project for my dad.” When Laura’s eyes widened a fraction in poorly repressed surprise, Kate gestured dismissively, answering the unasked question with the air of someone who was dismissing a passing weakness, “I may not have always seen eye to eye with my family, but ultimately, there are some things that just don’t matter.” She shifted in her seat, motion cracking a hairline fracture in the projection of calm, collected confidence. 

Laura raised an eyebrow, more out of habit than disbelief (she long since learned she could get a lot out of Derek with the mysterious, silent eyebrow raise; heaven forbid he should learn it himself...that would be a disaster). 

Kate's chin angled up a fraction, straddling the line between cocky and defensive even as her voice was laced with amusement. "It was just a phase. And there are more important things." Mouth suddenly dry and heart jolting in her chest, Laura sat and stared in hesitant silence, lips pressed into a thin line in an attempt to trap her own response to that triggering language. As if the obvious lack of response was not unexpected, the other woman pushed up from the booth table, all casual and fluid. "Try not to burn this Starbucks to the ground. I’m fond of it on Thursdays.”

Oh. 

OH. Thursdays. Ok. "Uh, yeah – I’ll work on that. It was nice to meet you." Even if her eyebrows were a little drawn, the smile that took over Laura’s expression was genuine and Kate’s sharp imitation of a smile softened a fraction before she nodded, turned, and walked away.


	2. Coffee and Competition

Laura spent the rest of the week wasting her spare time in a handful of coffee shops around Beacon Hills, assiduously avoiding her family. Especially her mom, who was acting a just little too watchful in the wake of her recent confession and this sudden addiction to coffee shops. Despite the occasional awkward comment (the frequency of which was exponentially reduced with Uncle Peter’s departure) Laura managed to distract herself, developing a taste for coffee and trying to track her bother's mystery girlfriend.

On Friday, she swung through the coffee shop close to Beacon Hills High, intent on snagging some of the noxious, addicting liquid to pull an all-nighter for no good reason. She was pleasantly surprised (in a no-there-really-was-no-stalking-really kind of way) to see Kate in line just ahead of her, though the woman's frosty greeting threw her for a bit of a loop. Apparently, Kate was not usually a warm, friendly kind of person. So, after an awkwardly energetic, "Hey! I'm Laura – the pyrokinetic from the other day!" that was met with prolonged silence, she rolled onto the balls of her feet, rocked back, and looked away. 

Ok, then. Maybe she’d just imagined that initial burst of compelling chemistry?

"You're really friendly, aren't you?" came the grudging, belated reply. She’d never heard someone manage to make ‘friendly’ sound like a dirty word, but apparently the English language was surprisingly flexible.

Head jerking up to display a prominently, sarcastically raised eyebrow, Laura immediately defended, reply a little sharper than she intended, "Says the woman who invited herself to my table a few days ago." 

A hint of amusement tweaked Kate's lips, but it disappeared so quickly that could have been Laura’s imagination. That smug, disinterested smirk settled in to taint what would have otherwise been a pair of very pretty lips. "Point."

Cue the awkward, prolonged silence. 

Obviously, she should have just waved from the back of the line, instead of trotting up with a ‘friendly’ smile. This would be so much less uncomfortable if she was just 10 steps further back and could get away with pretending to check her phone. Or walking away. Or something. Actually, just being more than 10 feet away from that unnecessary, piercing green-eyed stare would have made everything so much less prickly. Laura fought the bizarre sensation that she was being evaluated and picked apart in the terse silence. Seriously, what was with that look? 

When the queue took a few steps forward, the werewolf glanced at the ever-lengthening end of the line and waved a hand in that general direction, attempting to excuse herself with some level of human etiquette. To her surprise, a hand shot out, fingers hooking over the curve of her forearm as a surprisingly strong grip pulled her forward a few steps. Laura’s feet caught on several seconds before her brain, werewolf reflexes keeping her from tripping over her own feet. So, she should stay? To be stared at, presumably? Mixed-signals, much?

Someone needed to learn to use their words. The man behind them grumbled something about cutting in line, but Laura’s attention was otherwise engaged (read: confused). Of more imminent importance than his grumpiness, they were now staring at each other in painfully awkward silence. 

"So...you love coffee?"

Breaking her relentless stare, Kate gave a rather heartless 'no, really?' expression before answering with biting sarcasm, "What gave me away?"

"Your bad attitude. Clearly you haven't had your morning espresso."

To Laura's surprise, that earned her a bark of laughter. "Bitchy." The word actually sounded like a compliment. 

And it…it made the werewolf smile, a sharp display of blunt, human teeth. "You started it."

The strange woman laughed, sounding much too pleased considering the current spiral of their conversation, and Laura was pretty sure her eyes dropped down to that mouth for a split-second, stuck somewhere between admiring the curve of her lips and the way her face seemed to light up. "You're a bit of spitfire, aren't you?"

"Naturally.” Obviously. “I'm gonna be A-" Laura froze for a second, substituting in what she hoped managed to be a slightly conspiratorial – rather than conspicuous - voice, "a queen. My family's matriarchal, and I'm ‘up for the throne'." Despite her near stumble over the word ‘Alpha’, there was still a pleased twitch to her lips as she shared this little faux-secret. 

Kate raised an amused eyebrow. "I wish I could say the same."

"Make your family a matriarchy.” With a snarky little grin, Laura added playfully, “It solves creates almost as many problems as it solves.”

The woman snorted, lips quirking like she was fighting some kind of knee-jerk reaction. "It is already. But my brother's fiancé gets the role.” Bitterness tinged the words, despite the predatory, shark-like smile that those beautiful lips finally curled into.

“His fiancé?” Laura questioned, words leaping off her tongue before they’d been cleared by her brain. She really didn’t need to make herself sound like an idiot by parroting, but it was such a bizarre twist on such an ingrained element of her own culture that it rang uncomfortably false in her own ears. 

“She’s not even blood," the words erupted, sudden and violent as Kate's face stormed over for a few precious seconds before clearing with a jolt of realization. Laura could sympathize; if her own family passed her over in favor of a sibling’s mate, she would probably have at least as much bitter venom in her own voice. Even just the idea of being cheated out of her place in the pack raised her hackles, breeding a surprising rush of vehemence.

She knew how this worked (for wolves at least) and blood always came first. "That’s illogical. She comes before you in the hierarchy?"

The human’s lips tightened, pressing into a thin, defiant line, shoulders straightening and chin rising as if expecting some kind of attack. When none came directly on the heels of that question, she abruptly shifted, expression giving away absolutely nothing for several long, lingering seconds.

Then, with shoulders tensing like she was only just resigning herself to this conversation, Kate gritted out a quiet, acidic, "The Matriarch’s word is law, even when she’s dead.” Laura could almost smell the toxic sour of words building up and rotting behind the human’s clenched teeth, so she let the silence stretch into unspoken invitation. 

“I don't get my birthright unless I fight for it. So-" She bit down on whatever words were clawing their way off her tongue, denying them despite the powerful draw of venting to a sympathetic, uninvolved stranger. "Nothing short of a miracle would…” Kate smelled like a potent, vicious cocktail of frustrated, angry, and hurt, and Laura tried to imagine what it would be like for her mom to declare her sibling's mate alpha instead. It would be like Laura wasn't worthy, wasn’t good enough to receive the status she’d been born with. Being denied her place in the pack would be the highest, most painful form of insult and injury, and even for humans – with their less-structured social positions – that kind of slight must burn like no other.

Frowning, she offered a hesitant attempt at a comforting pat on the arm, and when Kate didn’t jump away, she let her hand settle on her forearm for a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "It’s something you shouldn’t have to fight for, but I don’t think that means you can’t. Convince the-“

"Excuse me - can I take your order sometime today?" an annoyed, grating voice interrupted. Kate's face twisted, hell breaking loose across her expression. Before she could give the guy a tongue lashing like nothing else he’d ever experienced, Laura talked around her. 

"Two of those Carmel frappe things with extra caramel on one. Please." Kate deflated from angry to disdainful (in a distantly confused sort of way) in the fraction of a second, and Laura tried to hide the smile that was threatening to break through as she pulled a folded set of bills and handed them to the impatient cashier. 

"Great. Wait over there," he dismissed, eyeing Kate warily as he waved another customer up to the register. In the course of their little bicker-turned-heart-to-heart, the shop had only gotten busier. Apparently, Laura’s nose wasn’t the only thing affected by the stench of coffee, or – more realistically – maybe that was just the effect of this intense, magnetic human. At any rate, she took her new acquaintance by the arm and all but dragged her off to the side to wait, ignoring the less-than-subtle, less-than-genuine attempts to break free.

"You bought my coffee." Chin up and eyes otherwise engaged in taking in the room, Kate’s tone implied a degree of distant offense that was much better suited to phrases like ‘the mouse is dead’ or ‘the end of the world is imminent’. 

"Yours is the one with extra caramel, sunshine.” 

"For all you know, I hate Carmel," Kate grouched moodily, eyes narrowed at Laura’s irritatingly bright smile and wickedly gleaming eyes. 

Laura couldn't very well tell her that her drink smelled like a caramel overdose last Monday. So she just gave the woman a shit-eating grin and said, "You need it to sweeten up that sour face."

Kate lashed out with a light smack across Laura's upper arm, shooting back with an almost grudging bit of a sparkle in her eye, "I'll have you know my face is gorgeous just the way it is."

"Oh, yes - I'm sure you bring out all the boys," Laura drawled with a roll of her eyes. 

"As a matter of fact, I do," Kate preened, giving a saucy toss of her light-brown curls. The smolder in those bright eyes was sure to have drawn in more than one unlucky (lucky?) soul. “They can’t resist.”

"Mmhmm,” Laura drawled, leaning in with ship-sharp challenge in her green-gold eyes. “And when you threatened to rip their throats out with your teeth while on caffeine withdraw…what’d they say?”

The human snorted. “What makes you think I kept them that long?”

“Surely, you keep the interesting boys?” Laura chastised, faking a scandalized glower that didn’t manage to look even partially genuine.

“Are there interesting boys?” Kate mocked, playing up a dramatic roll of both eyes. 

“Well…not if you don’t like dick.” And that comment was a show-stopper.

Kate opened her mouth. Closed it. And opened it again. "Maybe that's irrelevant." 

This was one of those times when Laura knew – really, deeply knew, in the furthest reaches of her bones – that she needed to play along, but when she opened her mouth, her tongue was remarkably uncooperative, "Or maybe it’s not.” Narrowed sea-green eyes flashed a warning shade of displeased, and Laura kept right on going, “If it works for you, then, hey, there’s no judgment here.”

“It does.”

“-but there’s no judgment if it doesn’t work either,” the werewolf finished with a casual shrug.

Kate didn't answer, choosing to examine the tile floor with a narrowed, icy stare. There was an unexpected sort of vulnerability in the raw, inexplicable honesty between them, but somehow all the sniping and staring actually made it easier to spill words and maybe – just maybe – Kate secretly wanted that chance just as much as Laura did.

"Two Carmel Frappuccinos!" 

"I'll get it," Kate volunteered abruptly, launching into the dense group of waiting folks and shouldering her way back with their coffees.

They stole a set of rickety chairs in the back, even though Laura had planned on racing out again, and just...talked. Laura chattered animatedly about wanting to go to law school in New York next year, and why she was taking a gap year in the middle of nowhere. She talked about her fascination with civil rights law and how intricate and capable the justice system was with the right people. Unabashedly, she jabbed at the American idea of justice, the fallacies of the prison system, and the difficulties and excitement that came with passing the bar exam. 

And Kate listened, commenting ruthlessly on Laura's weird enthusiasm and drawing some surprisingly insightful conclusions. She seemed to have an intricate understanding of a bizarre range of legalities, while having absolutely no knowledge of others. For example, her understanding of gun/carry laws across the United States was impressively extensive, but legislative actions on marriage or racial profiling were entirely outside her comfort zone. So the conversation frequently devolved into friendly bickering whenever they disagreed. When Laura finally got around to trying to pry information out of Kate, she learned the girl was as private as she was tricky with her application of the English language…and had a vast array of interest in electricity, motion, mathematics, and the sciences in general. 

The woman was actually fucking brilliant, and it made Laura grin like a cheshire cat. 

"You could rule the world with science like that - you do know that, right?" 

"Not on my docket."

"What -why?!” That was just such an insane waste of talent! “You're clearly brilliant! If you're looking for a way to impress - use that vast arsenal of knowledge. Go for science!" She pumped her fist in the air with the loud proclamation, and Kate flailed forward to drag her hand back down, losing that cool facade for a split-second.

"Easy with that enthusiasm. You might kill someone," she joked, shooting Laura a mock-scathing glare as she pinned that errant fist to the table. 

“With my enthusiasm?” Yeah, right.

Kate didn’t miss a beat in answering, “Stranger things have happened. The things I’ve seen could rattle your world.”

Laura just grinned at Kate, using the irresistible pull of her bright smile to lull the human into a false sense of stability before yanking her hand away and slamming it down on the back of Kate's hand. Competitive hand-smacking turned into three games of Egyptian Rat-Screw, five hours of fierce competition, and two and half spilled drinks. About the time Laura realized the bruises on her hands were healing and Kate's obviously weren't, she regretfully groped for an excuse to get out of another tiebreaker game. Kate ribbed her for her ‘cowardice’, and Laura smacked her upside the head as she swept out.


	3. Competition and Cynicism

The whole weekend went by in a bit of a blur, as Laura introduced Egyptian rat-screw to Cora, Andy, and Becca. They learned pretty fast that they needed an altered set of rules - so, cards were flipped sideways, punctured cards resulted in penalty discards, and driving a claw through someone’s hand did NOT count as a win. Ever. In fact, they all pretty much forfeited that round to Cora. About a week later, all the playing cards – even the bloody, torn ones – disappeared under mysterious, over-night circumstances.

Personally, she figured her parents just got tired of the bloodstains. And the smell.

Although she was aiming to attend a law school in New York at the close of her gap year, Laura really enjoyed her part-time volunteership with the nature preserve wildlife division. She liked running around in the woods - it felt like home. If ever she were able to reconcile her desire to do something worthwhile through the justice system and her desire to live as a hermit in the middle of the woods, she would be a very happy lady. As things stood at the moment, however, she was thrilled to have this small window of time to volunteer part-time out in the preserve and part-time down in the Town Hall legal department (even if she was just an office-slave).

She ran into Kate twice – once at the gas station, where she barely got more than a nod of acknowledgement (that still felt like an accomplishment, given the various degrees of icy-to-frigid that usually made up the woman’s social interaction) and another time in the grocery store. Laura was just picking up a literal bucket of pasta when they ran into each other, and standoffish behavior slowly gave way to Laura’s enthusiasm, as she blurted, “No, really - you would not believe how much my family can eat. Especially my siblings. They’re like ravenous little wolves, scarfing down everything in sight. It’s the least charming thing you could ever have the misfortune of seeing. It’s terrifying. Really.”

Eyebrows arching in blatant skepticism, the other woman eyed the pile of pasta boxes dubiously, before returning her frosty attention back to Laura’s expressive gesticulation. “…You have eighteen pasta boxes. And how many siblings?”

“Four. And my folks.”

“That’s 2.57 pasta boxes each…” Kate drawled icily, doing that little thing where she sounded board even though the focus of her eyes was sharp and rapt. 

“I told you: they’re animals. They desecrate the laws of etiquette. Also, they’re teenagers, so they desecrate a lot of other laws too.”

Her friend – they were friends now, weren’t they? – bit back the start of a smile, shaking her head to toss a few stray curls back over her shoulder. “Your parents must be too lenient.” 

Laura couldn’t tell if that was said in jest or not; sometimes Kate’s sense of humor was a little challenging to interpret. However, that seemed like something she should laugh off, so she did, flashing her dimples with a bright smile. “I don’t know that I’m qualified to judge. Some days, I let them get away with murder, and its just all kinds of pathetic.”

“Clearly they know your weakness.”

“I don’t have a weakness.”

“If that were true, they wouldn’t get away with shit on your watch. Think about it.”

Laura threw a petulant pout over her shoulder at Kate as she shoveled pasta sauce into her cart. She thought about it a little more closely, and yeah, perhaps she could see that. “Fine, ok – maybe, just maybe, you have a point.”

With a slow, triumphant grin spreading across unwilling lips, Kate prompted, “So your weakness is…?”

The werewolf threw out an overdramatic sigh, before finally letting a smile sneak over her own expression and admitting, “Big pleading eyes, and the word ‘please’. So, basically, begging. It gets me every time.”

A coughed huff of laughter suddenly lit up Kate’s face, jade-green eyes wickedly bright as her mouth curved into a sly smile, asking suggestively, “Does it?” 

Does…huh? OH. Laura felt her cheeks flush vibrant, warm red, mouth opening, closing, and reopening before she managed to stammer through a shocked explanation, “No, I didn’t mean like that – well, not that I don’t appreciate…uh, that’s really not the point.” She took in a quick breath, only to continue the rapid spill of words, “What I mean is, well, that’s not- Its just they’re so…“ And now none of the words that came to mind were for general audiences, and this was about her siblings, which was so gross. And the mental disconnect was so prominent as to completely throw her off any degree of coherence, apparently. 

However, the way Kate was looking at her right now had nothing to do with her siblings, and suddenly the werewolf felt too hot and too heady all at once, swallowed by the all-consuming vibrancy of those eyes. She really just needed to shut up, before she said some of the stupid – an inappropriately romantic – shit that was running through her head right now. 

Before she got that far, Kate added, tone entirely serious and just a little breathless, “Well, I can certainly vouch for the power of a well-deployed ‘please’. I’ve even got the bedroom eyes to go with it.” 

Laura’s jaw snapped shut, eyes comically wide as she stared and tried to bite back the barrage of potentially terrifying things that were trying to fight their way off her tongue.

And then her friend just couldn’t keep it in any longer and burst into a heaving cackle, bracing her arm against the shelving just to have something to steady her shaking limbs. The laughter was infectious, and Laura found herself collapsing into a similar fit, cheeks still flaming with embarrassment at that awkward, fumbled honesty. 

Not even fifteen minutes later, they were crashing through the check-out lines and diving into a nearby coffee shop. What felt like 10 minutes later, Kate was hurrying out of the shop and Laura was left wondering where the past hour and a half had gone.

The following Thursday, Laura purposefully stopped by the Starbucks across town where she’d first run into Kate, crashing in a rickety old chair near the front window. Ostensibly, she was there for the sunshine to read the pages she was listlessly flipping through, reading snippets of various case studies in civil law. Eventually, one study drew her in with a mounting tale of absolute horror, only to be jerked out of the riveting ending by a familiar voice.

“Ignorance of the law always doesn’t hamper lawyers.”

Opening her mouth to voice abject, righteous indignation at a world that corrupts even the rigid nature of law, Laura found her tongue spitting out different words entirely, “Have you been reading over my shoulder?”

Kate raised an amused eyebrow that didn’t quite radiate her usual degree of frosty indifference. “If I’d known you were so short-sighted, I’d have said something.” 

“Low blow,” Laura admonished, playful and enthusiastic as ever.

Her friend just shot her a shark-like smile that was all white teeth and just a few degrees into deranged. If she’d seen someone with that smile in a dark alley, she might have been tempted to get the hell out of Dodge. But, here with the warm sunlight softening the angles of Kate’s face and that playful glimmer alight in pretty green eyes, the expression didn’t come across nearly as menacingly as it might have. In fact, Laura found that edge – the narrow line between feral and playful – rather cute. It was a wolf thing.

“So, what have you got there?” Kate gestured to the massive stack of clipped papers beneath the book as she slid into the nearby seat. 

“Legal documents, for my part-time work. It's a brief.”

The woman glanced down at the sizable stack of papers, back up at Laura, and then back down at the neatly clipped pile, “Only a lawyer would write a 10,000 word document and then call it a ‘brief’.”

Easy laughter tumbled past Laura’s parted lips, easing the stress that had been clinging tightly to her shoulders and spine. “Just wait till I show you the ones that aren’t ‘brief’.”

“Well, I imagine, as it is the profession of lawyers to question everything, surrender nothing, and speak by the hour, that would generate a lot of paperwork,” Kate teased.

“Ouch,” Laura clutched her chest as if physically injured. “You wound me with your cynicism.” 

“I’m sure the sensation is similar to being wounded by your optimism,” Kate returned, resting her chin on the backs of her hands and grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Ok, yes – the law has its multifaceted failures, I won’t deny that. But, there’s so much potential for restoring and upholding social balance and order…” Launching into her argument with intense, passionate enthusiasm, Laura argued her perspective on the pros and cons of civil justice for minorities and marginalized legal groups, expressively gesticulating to her eternally skeptical audience.

Two hours later, Laura managed to get through two cups of coffee and one particularly epic case study, solely due to Kate’s insistence on a dramatized read-through. The dramatic re-telling of a series of horror stories had them tied up in fits of shocked laughter, between bouts of the werewolf smacking her forehead down on the table in appalled hysterics. By the time the barista was giving them angry, dirty looks, they were both high on caffeine and giggles, packing their respective trash and papers to retreat into the cool, evening air.

The rest of the week and weekend was unremarkably uneventful, aside from the half-hour Laura spent sniffing around her brother’s room in an attempt to distract herself from her own sorely limited romance. Unfortunately, there was nothing to find. She really just needed to ask for Kate’s number.

As sheer luck would have it (or perhaps ‘stalking’ might have been a more accurate term), Laura ran into Kate three more times in the following week. Twice on accident, and once on purpose. When she ran into her at the grocery again, it was only because she happened to catch the rhythm of a very particular heartbeat, feeling the sound snag on her ears only to reel her in like a magnet. It was a brief encounter that was just the right side of awkward. And then, naturally, the second time was when she showed up at The Starbucks – Kate’s Starbucks – on Thursday, where they made impromptu plans for a tennis match after a heated debate on the merits of physical education in public education and the penal system. 

As an unofficial date, the tennis match wasn’t bad. Laura let Kate beat her with a final score of 2-1, feigning exhaustion when she saw her crush starting to flag. Human stamina was still human stamina. That said, a four-hour match was nothing to mock; the woman had incredible endurance (not to mention determination and the most breathtaking victory-grin), and Laura was not above teasing her for it. Cue all the raunchy jokes and ice cream. 

Overall, that Saturday afternoon was actually amazing, even though Laura still hadn’t worked up the courage to ask for her number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While this crack(?)fic is admittedly finished already, I'm posting it in chapters because I'm too lazy to edit the entire thing all at once. ^.^ Anyway, I'll be updating with a new chapter each weekend, so thank you for your patience.
> 
> And thanks for reading!
> 
> (Disclaimer: This fic was written before Hale folks began doing the (spoiler) things (spoiler) that they're doing in the current season. So, my Headcanon!HaleFamily deviates slightly from canon, and is probably most similar to depictions through the end of Season 2 or so.)


	4. Cynicism and Family

After a suffocatingly long Monday weaving between too many shelves that had gathered too much dust, Laura sank into a plush seat in Kate’s Starbucks pretending her hot cup of coffee was the asshole who'd sent her running through the basement all afternoon. He didn't even use the references she excavated from over a dozen different ecosystems of dust! Now she smelled like dirt, mold, rose-ish-scented carpet-cleaner, and old cobwebs, and even a thorough scrubbing with that nasty alcohol-based soap couldn’t cleanse the putrid combination from her hands. Much less her hair and skin. The smell was like a cloud that hung off her head and shoulders, building a throbbing migraine between her temples. 

Somehow (probably because she valued the experience, if not her supervisor), her coffee ended up getting the brunt of her irritation. There was only so much that her abused senses could take, and she was hoping the familiar, overwhelming scent of coffee might just cleanse her palate. Or rather, she was hoping it might stabilize her over-stimulated senses, right up until some inconsiderate moron flounced right into the chair next to her, carelessly dropping bags in a puddle of brand names. 

Laura almost chocked on the amount of – ironically, rose-scented – perfume the woman was wearing, and she only barely caught herself turning to snarl something nasty. Seriously, the woman didn’t need to wear the entire fucking bottle or sprawl in a public space like a mini shopping center. The lady didn’t even bother snatching back the shopping bag that was jabbing Laura in the arm, much less the ones that careened over her feet a second earlier. She was sitting in what looked like the wreckage of a badly orchestrated Super-Sale Ad, and the newcomer just blinked blankly at her irate glower, before edging backwards to relax into the seat cushions. 

They sat there, staring at each other from less than a foot away with no small degree of irritation…until Laura kicked her foot free of a clingy, purple bag. The woman grabbed at the bag, grunting out an affronted and severely putout, “Excuse me. If you don’t mind.” 

She didn’t make a move to grab any of the rest of the bags that were encroaching on Laura’s territory, and the werewolf bit out, “I’d appreciate it if you kept your shopping experience to yourself.” And just to accentuate her point, she kicked at another bag that was digging into her shin. The stranger did not appreciate the demonstration. So, what was once a faux-polite exchange quickly devolved, with the stranger turning up her nose and making a snide comment about bitches without their caffeine. She then proceeded to demand that - if there was a problem with her merchandise, which yes, actually there was a problem with it! – Laura set it up neatly on the nearby table.

It was entitled and rude, and with too little sleep and too much frustration, the wolf instincts just kicked in. Maybe she had to deal with this kind of inconsiderate, demanding behavior at work, but she sure as hell was not going to put up with that bullshit here. In her free time. In a public space. While she was coping with the onset of a massive, thudding migraine and just wanted a brief, beautiful moment of peace.

Really, it was one of those petty, stupid little fights that civil, otherwise-reasonable adults engage in when stress exceeded available outlets. And Laura, who would usually consider herself a fairly rational (though, perhaps not exactly ‘patient’) individual, was helplessly caught up in the snappish, bitter exchange. Her better judgment did not make an appearance. At least, not initially.

Nearly ten whole minutes into a pointless, snide exchange, the fight escalated into whispered, snarled comments until the werewolf slammed her coffee cup down, sending one bag clattering to the floor and upending the stranger’s coffee across her bitchy, be-perfumed lap. The woman’s jaw practically hit the floor as she stared in wide-eyed, enraged horror, while Laura just jerked to her feet and stormed to the door.

“You get back here, you fucking bitch!” she screeched, face a vibrant shade of livid red. “You do not get to leave me like this!” 

Raising her middle finger, she flipped the lady off without even turning around. She was done. Done with her precarious, invasive piles of purchases. Done with her painfully overdone perfume. Done with her bitchy, entitled attitude. Done and done.

Clearly, today was just not her day.

Eyes narrowed in irate fury, she sped-walked down the street and through the parking lot, where she flopped onto the trunk of her car, threw her arms out and scowled up at the stupidly beautiful sunset. _What an excellent display of maturity_ , her inner monologue mocked. _Perfectly befitting an Alpha. Good job – there’s no way your grandparents won’t want to pass the title on to an heir that gets rattled by one pathetic human. Excellent display of self-control and leadership potential._

Fucking hell.

Usually, Laura took too much pride in her own stability to admit that there were times when she was just as close to loosing it as Derek or Becca. But right now, with the full moon right around the corner and her patience taxed by irritation and exhaustion, she'd lost her very human temper. Maybe she just shouldn't be out in public this time of month, but holing up in her room like an adolescent felt like an admission of defeat. It felt like cowardice, and no Alpha was ever recognized, commended, or established for their cowardice. No, it fell on her shoulders – as the next leader of their sizeable pack – to maintain perfect control. She couldn’t fall off the bandwagon like that.

Outside, she felt marginally better, what with the lack of pungent rose to tax her senses. But, it was still hard to settle, with the wafting stench of perfume and dust sticking to her skin. Coffee was almost a part of her own personal scent these days – overpowering, overwhelming…but also soothing and settling. The all-consuming nature of its pungent aroma was almost like a point of focus – like white-noise for her sense of smell. And if she’d had just a few precious moments of insulating peace, maybe her brain wouldn’t feel like it was trying to bash its way out of her skull. However, the perfume riled her temper instead, worming into her skull and agitating her head into a pulse of sharp, burning pain.

It wasn’t fair. She knew that was childish and petulant-

"Break up with your girlfriend?"

Laura sat up so abruptly that she almost knocked herself right off the trunk of her gorgeous black car. "Kat…te…” The surprise was only momentary and was promptly followed by a less than eloquently stumbled, “Uh...what?"

Tossing a thumb back in the direction of the coffee shop, Kate shrugged dismissively, leaning against a nearby car like she was modeling for the next issue of Vogue. Even though her expression was the same, patented ‘I give no fucks’ default that she always wore, her tone was oddly accusatory, "I saw you fighting with her back there. Didn't look like it ended well."

Staring, Laura opened her mouth. And then closed it, wordless. 

Frankly, she just didn't know how to say 'no, I got into an intensely immature fight with some bitch over her shopping bags while she drowned me in perfume'. It sounded so pathetic. Also - what was with the angry furrow of those eyebrows and the pouty, downturned lips? As the silence stretched out between them, her friend’s face morphed into a bizarre contortion between anger and concern. It was a weird look on her, not least of all because her standard bitch-face didn’t usually slip away this fast.

Kate shifted her feet and kicked up some chunks of asphalt, the corner of her mouth twitching like it did when she was about to say something that made her uncomfortable. "You ok?" She sounded like she was asking the question begrudgingly, but it looked like the concern was winning out over the anger. Albeit, slowly.

Opening her mouth with decisive determination to make at least some kind of sound this time, Laura managed a response, "I - yeah, I’ll be fine. Its just a little thing, really. It’s not…uh, really, like that." The words didn't sound as reassuring in her own ears as they were meant to, but Kate seemed to settle a little. For her part, Laura only barely managed not to slam her own face into the palm of her hand, berating herself for making this so much more awkward than it had to be. She was just caught off-guard by the pouty lips and just…everything about Kate, ok? She hadn’t been prepared for that, obviously. At this point, she was fairly sure she couldn’t possibly make this more awkward.

With a hand on her hip, Kate tossed pretty brown curls over her shoulder, transferring her scowl to the general direction of Starbucks. "You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend." Laura gaped, initially because that woman was obviously not her girlfriend and then because her questionably-straight friend (that she was definitely mature enough to admit she was crushing on) sounded like she cared a little too much. Or maybe a lot too much. It wasn’t that Laura hadn’t realized there was chemistry between them (the conversation, the secrets, the eye-fucking) she just hadn’t realized that she wasn’t the only one to notice. Kate's expression hardened, eyes narrowing, "Oh, so it’s just none of my business, right? Just because I di-"

"Whoa - no, wait a minute!" Laura's hands flew up in some kind of surrender gesture as she slid off the trunk, gracelessly stumbling to her feet. "I, no, just...really? Has anyone ever told you what an overactive imagination you have?"

"You know what – I don't even care!" Kate denied, but she was shifting on her feet, clearly off balance and oddly worked up. Despite herself, Laura found those flushed cheeks and blustering rejections adorable, as the woman’s act fell decidedly flat. Maybe she would have bought it two weeks ago, but for anyone who was actually paying attention, Kate’s at was decidedly less than convincing. It wasn't entirely the confident, dangerous woman that she usually presented. There was an underlying current that was more real, somehow. Like there was a person buried under all that bluff. “I don’t even know why we’re taking about this. Its no-“

"She wasn't my girlfriend - I don't even have a girlfriend. She was a complete stranger that I happened to get into a fight with because her perfume was suffocating and I was in a bad mood." The words rushed out, tumbling over each other as she talked right over Kate's attempt to bluster out another stream of defensive jargon. 

"...oh." Kate’s nod was sharp and jerky, as if abruptly realizing that she’d just given away more than she meant. As if there was meaning irrevocably attached to the curt, defensive rush of that exchange.

"Yeah...'oh',” Laura confirmed, unwilling to let even her crush get away with that kind of combative, uncommunicative behavior. There was an awkward pause, before the werewolf decided to be the better adult. "Look, you owe me dinner for that disaster." Kate's expression morphed from half-frozen anger to surprised wariness. And it made Laura's heart go out to her a bit - it was like this woman expected every comment to be some thinly-veiled insult or half-hidden trap or cleverly-orchestrated plot. Frankly, reactions like that made her wonder what her family life was like, growing up. It also made her want to wrap Kate in a blanket, cuddle her, and make her drink hot chocolate with lots of marshmallows. 

And never let her go.

"...dinner." It was a question, disguised as a statement.

"Yeah, its the last meal of the day?" Laura quipped.

"I know what dinner is, you -" She snapped, stopping herself, caught between glaring and smiling. Not the shark grin - the slight, shy smile that only came out when they were alone or too caught up in conversation to notice anyone else.

"Oh, thank goodness - I was worried that they didn't have dinner where you’re from." Laura rolled her eyes for dramatic effect, and the helpless sort of smile that teased across Kate’s lips was totally worth everything that just happened. And maybe that didn’t make sense, but just seeing that smile made her content right down to the core of her body.

Sashaying around the car to the passenger side door, her crush muttered, mock-serious "Seriously, someone needs to take you down a peg or two."

"You claim you can have any guy, and yet _I_ am the one who needs to come down a peg?" Laura joked, as she walked around to the driver's side. 

From across the car, Kate just gave her a funny look, like she was weighing that question on the tip of her tongue. However, she didn't comment on it until Laura was midway through stealing the brownies out from under Kate's ice-cream sundae (after a lively argument debating ice cream versus brownies, during which Laura got a fudge brownie and Kate got a brownie sundae, and Laura called foul on that choice). "If I said you might have been right, what would you say?"

Confused, Laura froze, fork perched between her fingers midway between the ice cream and her mouth. After looking at Kate expectantly for a solid minute, she finally answered, "I’m right about a lot of things. If I knew what you were talking about, I might have a better idea of how to answer?" 

With an amused, disagreeing huff, Kate’s expression turned pensive in that closeted-intellect sort of way, looking like she was working over a mouthful of marbles. Green eyes narrowing contemplatively as she stirred the ice cream into a melting pool of liquid over the course of several quiet minutes. By now, Laura knew to wait her out. "My dad would disown me." There was another beat of silence, which was just about the amount of time it took Laura to catch up to the conversation.

"Why does he have to know?" The words popped out before she could stop them, barely above audible in the pulsing waves of noise clattering about the little diner. "Its your life, not his."

"You don't know my dad. Since mom died, everyone's life is his. It’s how he takes care of us, and I'm ok with that." In Laura's ears, the last phrase sounded trite with repetition, as if it had been said so many times that its meaning was more ingrained than considered. She could understand that - wolves had a certain dynamic they bowed to, but usually there was an instinct that helped the hierarchy feel more natural. The alpha would want to lead - raised, trained, and willing. The betas would want to be led - raised, trained, and willing. But, pack wasn’t supposed to be as much self-sacrifice as it was contributing to something beloved and greater than self. Life belonged to the whole pack, and it was the alpha’s responsibility to not only safeguard but also to foster that life. "He's family, and I'll do whatever it takes to make him proud. I don't need anything else." 

Laura didn't need to listen to the skip of Kate’s heart to know that was a lie. 

Into the bubble of silence between them, the older woman kept talking, words seeming to pry and twitch their way out of her mouth in hushed whispers, leaving Laura to wonder how long they'd been trapped behind those pretty, full lips. How long was she confining herself to isolated silence? How long had she been so alone that every admission came out like a dark, treacherous secret? 

She got that Kate’s family was insular, and she understood what it was like to protect a way of life. Really, she got it. She lived that life. But, this level of control and isolation? That methodology came across like madness, not like family. It was excessive. 

Abusive.

"Sometimes, I wish he'd died instead of her.” The words were so raw – like that might be the deepest, darkest unspoken secret sin she could share. And the werewolf was horrified to realize that, to her, it probably was. It shook Laura to the core that her friend’s own internalized abuse was so extreme that the worst sin was to wish her abuser didn’t exist…she couldn’t even allow herself to wish for a life where this ever-present fear and anxiety and hurt didn’t exist. Couldn’t put words to the experiences she’d witnessed or lived. Couldn’t allow herself to condemn him. Couldn’t do more than whisper words that fleshed out terrifying implications and patterns.

Reaching under the table, Laura took the clenching hand that was tucked under Kate's thigh and held it gently, waiting for it to be pulled away. But it stayed, warm and calloused, in hers. "I used to have nightmares about him. All fists and no patience. He's fucking terrifying." There wasn't even a glimmer of life in Kate's expression, and it made Laura's heart lurch, squeezing the woman's non-responsive hand hard enough to feel the pulse in her fingers. "But, I need him now…to survive. I don't know how I’d live without him, and I think we could reach a balance.” 

Laura heard the unspoken words: if she could just win his approval, they’d find equilibrium and she wouldn’t have to be so afraid. So alone. And frankly, although it sounded sick and twisted in her head, the werewolf almost understood that motivation. It was the darker side of pack - the part where abuse could be tolerable if it came with commitment and companionship. And she understood that, so she let her own twisted agreement escape, "Because he's family." 

Pack. Even humans had it, after a fashion. Family.

"Yeah. I guess." After a moment, she added, "That's fucked-up."

"I don't know...there isn't much I wouldn't do for my family, no matter what they've done. But…"

"Your family accepts you," Kate bit out a little too sharply, only to immediately retreat from the words like they’d burned her tongue to speak. "That's not what I mea-"

"Yeah, it was," Laura interrupted, dark green eyes fierce and sure. "And you’re angry. And that’s ok. That’s good.” She wished she could articulate how good it was that there was still some anger – still some impulse to fight for self and identity. “I've been angry with my grandparents for years. Ever since I realized that I'd never like boys the way I was 'supposed' to. I'd never get pregnant and have pu-rfect kids." She tripped over the word 'pups', turning it into ‘perfect’ in a split-second save. "And when they find out, they are going to go into an animalistic rage. They won't uphold my bid for leadership in our family, and they may not even acknowledge that I exist. They can’t accept me." She'd never really thought this through - never really looked at the consequences of being different the way she was right now. "But...that's their problem, because I refuse to be something less than myself. I'm scared of them, but I'm not scared enough to back down. I can’t back down, and I won’t."

Kate had never looked at Laura with anything close to what might almost be awe, and Laura had a private speculation that her cocky expression was just the default, leading all people to believe she was just naturally gifted at everything. The look on the woman's face now though? That was probably as close to 'awe' as she'd ever been - eyes slightly wider than usual, lips parted, and pulse racing. For all that Kate’s jaw was working to try to find words, she didn't speak for almost two minutes. "I'm not scared."

Laura didn't know how to respond to that. It was obviously a lie. They both knew it was a lie. Was there even any point in acknowledging the lie? Why did she even bother saying it? Oh, that was why. "You don't want to be afraid."

Pulse racing, there was a hard, determined set to Kate’s expression – a gleam in her bright green eyes that might have been just a little less hopeless. She shot back with only the slightest waver in her voice otherwise confident, "...Someday, I won't be."

Laura beamed at her, flashing her dimples with a smile like a ray of sunshine. "I'd bet on it."

A smile worked at the corner of Kate's lips, but she tossed her hair over her shoulder, resuming the default mask of confidence. "Of course. Only an idiot would ever bet against me."

"Uh-huh, sure." Laura laughed. "Pay the check and lets get out of here already."

"I'm not finished with-" she glanced down at the near-empty bowl of melted ice cream soup. "-bitch! You ate my entire desert! Oh, you are so paying for that." Laura pushed out of the booth, laughing mock-maniacally. "Oh, no you don't!"

"I'll go start the car!" Laura called, as she dashed out of the diner in a whirlwind of laughter and squeaking sneakers.


	5. Cynicism and Family

After a suffocatingly long Monday weaving between too many shelves that had gathered too much dust, Laura sank into a plush seat in Kate’s Starbucks pretending her hot cup of coffee was the asshole who'd sent her running through the basement all afternoon. He didn't even use the references she excavated from over a dozen different ecosystems of dust! Now she smelled like dirt, mold, rose-ish-scented carpet-cleaner, and old cobwebs, and even a thorough scrubbing with that nasty alcohol-based soap couldn’t cleanse the putrid combination from her hands. Much less her hair and skin. The smell was like a cloud that hung off her head and shoulders, building a throbbing migraine between her temples. 

Somehow (probably because she valued the experience, if not her supervisor), her coffee ended up getting the brunt of her irritation. There was only so much that her abused senses could take, and she was hoping the familiar, overwhelming scent of coffee might just cleanse her palate. Or rather, she was hoping it might stabilize her over-stimulated senses, right up until some inconsiderate moron flounced right into the chair next to her, carelessly dropping bags in a puddle of brand names. 

Laura almost chocked on the amount of – ironically, rose-scented – perfume the woman was wearing, and she only barely caught herself turning to snarl something nasty. Seriously, the woman didn’t need to wear the entire fucking bottle or sprawl in a public space like a mini shopping center. The lady didn’t even bother snatching back the shopping bag that was jabbing Laura in the arm, much less the ones that careened over her feet a second earlier. She was sitting in what looked like the wreckage of a badly orchestrated Super-Sale Ad, and the newcomer just blinked blankly at her irate glower, before edging backwards to relax into the seat cushions. 

They sat there, staring at each other from less than a foot away with no small degree of irritation…until Laura kicked her foot free of a clingy, purple bag. The woman grabbed at the bag, grunting out an affronted and severely putout, “Excuse me. If you don’t mind.” 

She didn’t make a move to grab any of the rest of the bags that were encroaching on Laura’s territory, and the werewolf bit out, “I’d appreciate it if you kept your shopping experience to yourself.” And just to accentuate her point, she kicked at another bag that was digging into her shin. The stranger did not appreciate the demonstration. So, what was once a faux-polite exchange quickly devolved, with the stranger turning up her nose and making a snide comment about bitches without their caffeine. She then proceeded to demand that - if there was a problem with her merchandise, which yes, actually there was a problem with it! – Laura set it up neatly on the nearby table.

It was entitled and rude, and with too little sleep and too much frustration, the wolf instincts just kicked in. Maybe she had to deal with this kind of inconsiderate, demanding behavior at work, but she sure as hell was not going to put up with that bullshit here. In her free time. In a public space. While she was coping with the onset of a massive, thudding migraine and just wanted a brief, beautiful moment of peace.

Really, it was one of those petty, stupid little fights that civil, otherwise-reasonable adults engage in when stress exceeded available outlets. And Laura, who would usually consider herself a fairly rational (though, perhaps not exactly ‘patient’) individual, was helplessly caught up in the snappish, bitter exchange. Her better judgment did not make an appearance. At least, not initially.

Nearly ten whole minutes into a pointless, snide exchange, the fight escalated into whispered, snarled comments until the werewolf slammed her coffee cup down, sending one bag clattering to the floor and upending the stranger’s coffee across her bitchy, be-perfumed lap. The woman’s jaw practically hit the floor as she stared in wide-eyed, enraged horror, while Laura just jerked to her feet and stormed to the door.

“You get back here, you fucking bitch!” she screeched, face a vibrant shade of livid red. “You do not get to leave me like this!” 

Raising her middle finger, she flipped the lady off without even turning around. She was done. Done with her precarious, invasive piles of purchases. Done with her painfully overdone perfume. Done with her bitchy, entitled attitude. Done and done.

Clearly, today was just not her day.

Eyes narrowed in irate fury, she sped-walked down the street and through the parking lot, where she flopped onto the trunk of her car, threw her arms out and scowled up at the stupidly beautiful sunset. _What an excellent display of maturity_ , her inner monologue mocked. _Perfectly befitting an Alpha. Good job – there’s no way your grandparents won’t want to pass the title on to an heir that gets rattled by one pathetic human. Excellent display of self-control and leadership potential._

Fucking hell.

Usually, Laura took too much pride in her own stability to admit that there were times when she was just as close to loosing it as Derek or Becca. But right now, with the full moon right around the corner and her patience taxed by irritation and exhaustion, she'd lost her very human temper. Maybe she just shouldn't be out in public this time of month, but holing up in her room like an adolescent felt like an admission of defeat. It felt like cowardice, and no Alpha was ever recognized, commended, or established for their cowardice. No, it fell on her shoulders – as the next leader of their sizeable pack – to maintain perfect control. She couldn’t fall off the bandwagon like that.

Outside, she felt marginally better, what with the lack of pungent rose to tax her senses. But, it was still hard to settle, with the wafting stench of perfume and dust sticking to her skin. Coffee was almost a part of her own personal scent these days – overpowering, overwhelming…but also soothing and settling. The all-consuming nature of its pungent aroma was almost like a point of focus – like white-noise for her sense of smell. And if she’d had just a few precious moments of insulating peace, maybe her brain wouldn’t feel like it was trying to bash its way out of her skull. However, the perfume riled her temper instead, worming into her skull and agitating her head into a pulse of sharp, burning pain.

It wasn’t fair. She knew that was childish and petulant-

"Break up with your girlfriend?"

Laura sat up so abruptly that she almost knocked herself right off the trunk of her gorgeous black car. "Kat…te…” The surprise was only momentary and was promptly followed by a less than eloquently stumbled, “Uh...what?"

Tossing a thumb back in the direction of the coffee shop, Kate shrugged dismissively, leaning against a nearby car like she was modeling for the next issue of Vogue. Even though her expression was the same, patented ‘I give no fucks’ default that she always wore, her tone was oddly accusatory, "I saw you fighting with her back there. Didn't look like it ended well."

Staring, Laura opened her mouth. And then closed it, wordless. 

Frankly, she just didn't know how to say 'no, I got into an intensely immature fight with some bitch over her shopping bags while she drowned me in perfume'. It sounded so pathetic. Also - what was with the angry furrow of those eyebrows and the pouty, downturned lips? As the silence stretched out between them, her friend’s face morphed into a bizarre contortion between anger and concern. It was a weird look on her, not least of all because her standard bitch-face didn’t usually slip away this fast.

Kate shifted her feet and kicked up some chunks of asphalt, the corner of her mouth twitching like it did when she was about to say something that made her uncomfortable. "You ok?" She sounded like she was asking the question begrudgingly, but it looked like the concern was winning out over the anger. Albeit, slowly.

Opening her mouth with decisive determination to make at least some kind of sound this time, Laura managed a response, "I - yeah, I’ll be fine. Its just a little thing, really. It’s not…uh, really, like that." The words didn't sound as reassuring in her own ears as they were meant to, but Kate seemed to settle a little. For her part, Laura only barely managed not to slam her own face into the palm of her hand, berating herself for making this so much more awkward than it had to be. She was just caught off-guard by the pouty lips and just…everything about Kate, ok? She hadn’t been prepared for that, obviously. At this point, she was fairly sure she couldn’t possibly make this more awkward.

With a hand on her hip, Kate tossed pretty brown curls over her shoulder, transferring her scowl to the general direction of Starbucks. "You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend." Laura gaped, initially because that woman was obviously not her girlfriend and then because her questionably-straight friend (that she was definitely mature enough to admit she was crushing on) sounded like she cared a little too much. Or maybe a lot too much. It wasn’t that Laura hadn’t realized there was chemistry between them (the conversation, the secrets, the eye-fucking) she just hadn’t realized that she wasn’t the only one to notice. Kate's expression hardened, eyes narrowing, "Oh, so it’s just none of my business, right? Just because I di-"

"Whoa - no, wait a minute!" Laura's hands flew up in some kind of surrender gesture as she slid off the trunk, gracelessly stumbling to her feet. "I, no, just...really? Has anyone ever told you what an overactive imagination you have?"

"You know what – I don't even care!" Kate denied, but she was shifting on her feet, clearly off balance and oddly worked up. Despite herself, Laura found those flushed cheeks and blustering rejections adorable, as the woman’s act fell decidedly flat. Maybe she would have bought it two weeks ago, but for anyone who was actually paying attention, Kate’s at was decidedly less than convincing. It wasn't entirely the confident, dangerous woman that she usually presented. There was an underlying current that was more real, somehow. Like there was a person buried under all that bluff. “I don’t even know why we’re taking about this. Its no-“

"She wasn't my girlfriend - I don't even have a girlfriend. She was a complete stranger that I happened to get into a fight with because her perfume was suffocating and I was in a bad mood." The words rushed out, tumbling over each other as she talked right over Kate's attempt to bluster out another stream of defensive jargon. 

"...oh." Kate’s nod was sharp and jerky, as if abruptly realizing that she’d just given away more than she meant. As if there was meaning irrevocably attached to the curt, defensive rush of that exchange.

"Yeah...'oh',” Laura confirmed, unwilling to let even her crush get away with that kind of combative, uncommunicative behavior. There was an awkward pause, before the werewolf decided to be the better adult. "Look, you owe me dinner for that disaster." Kate's expression morphed from half-frozen anger to surprised wariness. And it made Laura's heart go out to her a bit - it was like this woman expected every comment to be some thinly-veiled insult or half-hidden trap or cleverly-orchestrated plot. Frankly, reactions like that made her wonder what her family life was like, growing up. It also made her want to wrap Kate in a blanket, cuddle her, and make her drink hot chocolate with lots of marshmallows. 

And never let her go.

"...dinner." It was a question, disguised as a statement.

"Yeah, its the last meal of the day?" Laura quipped.

"I know what dinner is, you -" She snapped, stopping herself, caught between glaring and smiling. Not the shark grin - the slight, shy smile that only came out when they were alone or too caught up in conversation to notice anyone else.

"Oh, thank goodness - I was worried that they didn't have dinner where you’re from." Laura rolled her eyes for dramatic effect, and the helpless sort of smile that teased across Kate’s lips was totally worth everything that just happened. And maybe that didn’t make sense, but just seeing that smile made her content right down to the core of her body.

Sashaying around the car to the passenger side door, her crush muttered, mock-serious "Seriously, someone needs to take you down a peg or two."

"You claim you can have any guy, and yet _I_ am the one who needs to come down a peg?" Laura joked, as she walked around to the driver's side. 

From across the car, Kate just gave her a funny look, like she was weighing that question on the tip of her tongue. However, she didn't comment on it until Laura was midway through stealing the brownies out from under Kate's ice-cream sundae (after a lively argument debating ice cream versus brownies, during which Laura got a fudge brownie and Kate got a brownie sundae, and Laura called foul on that choice). "If I said you might have been right, what would you say?"

Confused, Laura froze, fork perched between her fingers midway between the ice cream and her mouth. After looking at Kate expectantly for a solid minute, she finally answered, "I’m right about a lot of things. If I knew what you were talking about, I might have a better idea of how to answer?" 

With an amused, disagreeing huff, Kate’s expression turned pensive in that closeted-intellect sort of way, looking like she was working over a mouthful of marbles. Green eyes narrowing contemplatively as she stirred the ice cream into a melting pool of liquid over the course of several quiet minutes. By now, Laura knew to wait her out. "My dad would disown me." There was another beat of silence, which was just about the amount of time it took Laura to catch up to the conversation.

"Why does he have to know?" The words popped out before she could stop them, barely above audible in the pulsing waves of noise clattering about the little diner. "Its your life, not his."

"You don't know my dad. Since mom died, everyone's life is his. It’s how he takes care of us, and I'm ok with that." In Laura's ears, the last phrase sounded trite with repetition, as if it had been said so many times that its meaning was more ingrained than considered. She could understand that - wolves had a certain dynamic they bowed to, but usually there was an instinct that helped the hierarchy feel more natural. The alpha would want to lead - raised, trained, and willing. The betas would want to be led - raised, trained, and willing. But, pack wasn’t supposed to be as much self-sacrifice as it was contributing to something beloved and greater than self. Life belonged to the whole pack, and it was the alpha’s responsibility to not only safeguard but also to foster that life. "He's family, and I'll do whatever it takes to make him proud. I don't need anything else." 

Laura didn't need to listen to the skip of Kate’s heart to know that was a lie. 

Into the bubble of silence between them, the older woman kept talking, words seeming to pry and twitch their way out of her mouth in hushed whispers, leaving Laura to wonder how long they'd been trapped behind those pretty, full lips. How long was she confining herself to isolated silence? How long had she been so alone that every admission came out like a dark, treacherous secret? 

She got that Kate’s family was insular, and she understood what it was like to protect a way of life. Really, she got it. She lived that life. But, this level of control and isolation? That methodology came across like madness, not like family. It was excessive. 

Abusive.

"Sometimes, I wish he'd died instead of her.” The words were so raw – like that might be the deepest, darkest unspoken secret sin she could share. And the werewolf was horrified to realize that, to her, it probably was. It shook Laura to the core that her friend’s own internalized abuse was so extreme that the worst sin was to wish her abuser didn’t exist…she couldn’t even allow herself to wish for a life where this ever-present fear and anxiety and hurt didn’t exist. Couldn’t put words to the experiences she’d witnessed or lived. Couldn’t allow herself to condemn him. Couldn’t do more than whisper words that fleshed out terrifying implications and patterns.

Reaching under the table, Laura took the clenching hand that was tucked under Kate's thigh and held it gently, waiting for it to be pulled away. But it stayed, warm and calloused, in hers. "I used to have nightmares about him. All fists and no patience. He's fucking terrifying." There wasn't even a glimmer of life in Kate's expression, and it made Laura's heart lurch, squeezing the woman's non-responsive hand hard enough to feel the pulse in her fingers. "But, I need him now…to survive. I don't know how I’d live without him, and I think we could reach a balance.” 

Laura heard the unspoken words: if she could just win his approval, they’d find equilibrium and she wouldn’t have to be so afraid. So alone. And frankly, although it sounded sick and twisted in her head, the werewolf almost understood that motivation. It was the darker side of pack - the part where abuse could be tolerable if it came with commitment and companionship. And she understood that, so she let her own twisted agreement escape, "Because he's family." 

Pack. Even humans had it, after a fashion. Family.

"Yeah. I guess." After a moment, she added, "That's fucked-up."

"I don't know...there isn't much I wouldn't do for my family, no matter what they've done. But…"

"Your family accepts you," Kate bit out a little too sharply, only to immediately retreat from the words like they’d burned her tongue to speak. "That's not what I mea-"

"Yeah, it was," Laura interrupted, dark green eyes fierce and sure. "And you’re angry. And that’s ok. That’s good.” She wished she could articulate how good it was that there was still some anger – still some impulse to fight for self and identity. “I've been angry with my grandparents for years. Ever since I realized that I'd never like boys the way I was 'supposed' to. I'd never get pregnant and have pu-rfect kids." She tripped over the word 'pups', turning it into ‘perfect’ in a split-second save. "And when they find out, they are going to go into an animalistic rage. They won't uphold my bid for leadership in our family, and they may not even acknowledge that I exist. They can’t accept me." She'd never really thought this through - never really looked at the consequences of being different the way she was right now. "But...that's their problem, because I refuse to be something less than myself. I'm scared of them, but I'm not scared enough to back down. I can’t back down, and I won’t."

Kate had never looked at Laura with anything close to what might almost be awe, and Laura had a private speculation that her cocky expression was just the default, leading all people to believe she was just naturally gifted at everything. The look on the woman's face now though? That was probably as close to 'awe' as she'd ever been - eyes slightly wider than usual, lips parted, and pulse racing. For all that Kate’s jaw was working to try to find words, she didn't speak for almost two minutes. "I'm not scared."

Laura didn't know how to respond to that. It was obviously a lie. They both knew it was a lie. Was there even any point in acknowledging the lie? Why did she even bother saying it? Oh, that was why. "You don't want to be afraid."

Pulse racing, there was a hard, determined set to Kate’s expression – a gleam in her bright green eyes that might have been just a little less hopeless. She shot back with only the slightest waver in her voice otherwise confident, "...Someday, I won't be."

Laura beamed at her, flashing her dimples with a smile like a ray of sunshine. "I'd bet on it."

A smile worked at the corner of Kate's lips, but she tossed her hair over her shoulder, resuming the default mask of confidence. "Of course. Only an idiot would ever bet against me."

"Uh-huh, sure." Laura laughed. "Pay the check and lets get out of here already."

"I'm not finished with-" she glanced down at the near-empty bowl of melted ice cream soup. "-bitch! You ate my entire desert! Oh, you are so paying for that." Laura pushed out of the booth, laughing mock-maniacally. "Oh, no you don't!"

"I'll go start the car!" Laura called, as she dashed out of the diner in a whirlwind of laughter and squeaking sneakers.


	6. Family and Fireworks

The full moon passed easily enough, and Laura continued to run into Kate, through a series of intentional and accidental encounters. It took her almost a week to realize she'd slowly started searching out the abnormally faint smell of Kate and entirely ignoring her brother's mystery girlfriend on her many exploratory excursions. She found herself mesmerized – wolf and all – by the way Kate seemed to swing from cool and controlled to focused and energetic to witty and sharp-tongued always kept things interesting. Every second with her was an unpredictable adventure, and the woman was up for anything at the drop of a hat. Anything from hiking back-trails and sliding down a muddy ravine to stalking through a knitting store and fencing with needles until they were thrown out. It felt like the world was their oyster.

And when Laura finally worked up the nerve to casually offer Kate her own number, the woman rolled her eyes, gaze eventually dropping to the digits scrawled across the back of her hand. “What kind of moron still writes their number on the back of someone’s hand?”

With a wry, mock-offended huff, she retorted, offhandedly, “I figured it would be more flattering than scrawling it across your forehead. Ink-blue isn’t really your color.”

“I do look better in crimson,” Kate allowed, lips twitching in obvious repression of a smile. “Still, ink is hardly permanent enough.”

Laura felt her heart skip in a rush of warmth, dimples flashing as a bright smile stole across her lips. “I’ll bring tattoo needles next time.”

Her friend raised one gorgeously unimpressed eyebrow, brushing the comment off as she turned around, ducked under a branch, and strode down a narrow deer-trail. “Paper would be easier. And last longer.”

“…I think I should be worried that it sounds like you’re more likely to loose your hand than a slip of paper,” Laura teased, slapping a hand over Kate’s shoulder and leaning into her to share the tiny stretch of path. 

The tilt of Kate’s head brought their faces dangerously close, and the woman snarked, eye flashing and smile playfully fierce, “I lead a dangerous life.”

Laughter crinkled at the corners of Laura’s bright green eyes as she shot back, “Oh, yes – that bowling ball had it out for you. You’re lucky you survived its fatal grasp.”

“I was actually referring to the Ravine Incident,” Kate replied, adopting a mock-haughty frown that was defied only by the gleeful twinkle in her eyes.

“Hey-“ the werewolf interrupted before they could talk through that humiliating experience for the second time today, “-I did not ask you to literally dive after me. I believe my words were: ‘Can you give me a hand?’ or something.”

“I’m fairly sure it was more like-“ Kate imitated an undignified squeak, before continuing in a rather impressively close approximation of Laura’s voice, “’Fuck, that was – ok, uhm, can you give me a hand?’…and then you proceeded to fall-“

“I wasn’t falling! I was…sliding. Slowly.” Laura defended, throwing her weight into the human’s shoulder in a show of petulance that was mostly overthrown by amusement. It didn’t hurt that the physical ‘retribution’ knocked her flush up against Kate’s side, to jostle comfortably against sweaty skin.

“You fell. Down a ravine, because you weren’t looking where you were going,” her friend asserted, shoulders quivering with barely repressed laughter.

“I was distracted. Intentionally distracted.”

“Oh?” A sly note tainted the genuine amusement in Kate’s voice. “And what was distracting you?”

“You know exactly what was distracting me.”

“I’m sure I can’t possibly imagine what it could have been.”

The werewolf shot her a look of knowing disbelief, lips pursed for all of a split-second of silence. “Just keep your shirt on next time.” Kate smirked, arm wrapping around Laura’s waist as she purred something rebellious under her breath. “And while we’re on the subject, don’t dive head-first into a ravine.” Although her lips were still unable to straighten out of their irrepressible smile, the sentiment was more serious, accompanied by the tone to match.

“Risking bodily harm is just part of my charm,” the human dismissed airily, apparently entirely unaware of just how brittle and breakable she was. For all Kate’s emotional turmoil, she really did seem fairly convinced of her own physical immortality. And yes, the woman was lucky – freakishly lucky. Somehow she managed to repeatedly get out of their scrapes entirely unscathed, but that didn’t make Laura any less aware that a single misstep could still result in lethal injury. Humans needed to be more careful. 

At least, humans should be more careful than this one typically was.

“Not charming.”

“It’s a little bit charming,” Kate immediate countered, smirking when Laura didn’t even try to carry on that argument. “Besides, Grand Gestures are in vogue.” 

Instead, the werewolf just shrugged and leaned further into sweat-slick warmth, muttering, “I have no idea what planet you’re from.” Kate just threw her a prima donna smirk with a dash of crazy, and Laura tried to keep herself from wanting to kiss that expression right off her mouth.

In the next few weeks, they did random things like tour the nature preserve (and make obscenely unnatural animal sounds between amused snickers) and go bowling at the little old place at the edge of town (without getting Kate’s fingers stuck in a kid-sized ball this time). They talked about the trials of memorizing legal jargon, how many semi-automatic weapons were legal and in which states, and whether or not corporations should be people. When things got to family, the conversations always seemed to take a turn for the emotionally dark and the physically cuddly. Laura started refusing to talk about parents or grandparents without holding hands, and Kate never objected. After a dozen or so intense conversations and admissions, they got to the point where sitting down involved the arrangement of both their limbs sprawled across each other, and talking about authority figures encouraged closer physical proximity and hands holding with a tight enough grip to leave fingertips white and bloodless. 

Bit by bit, they shared shadowed fractions of their experiences, sometimes physically holding one or the other together in aching silence. 

No names were ever brought up, but Laura learned without a measure of doubt that Kate's father was a sick bastard, who metaphorically (and sometimes literally) beat his kids into submission. Kate would never admit it, but she fell heavily under the sway of her control-freak father, practically worshiping him for want of his good opinion and her place in the family. There was a measure of insane desperation in the way she tried for his attention. Laura hoped, for Kate's sake, that the man wasn’t as evil as he sounded, because he sounded like terrifying proof that humans were as monstrous as anything that went bump in the night. As weeks melted into each other, her beautiful, troubled friend began to get more and more agitated, and consequently, Laura’s desire to steal the woman away from him intensified. 

When it was her turn to share, Laura shared her frustration with tradition, the confines of old thoughts and how she wanted to break through them. This seemed to inspire Kate out of her lows, but she never seemed to find the courage to change anything. And Laura didn’t fault her for that; she knew how strong the sway of Family and Security and Place was. She couldn’t fault Kate, especially when she could see just how badly her father fucked with her head. 

He’d break her one of these days. Of that, Laura had no doubt.

Sometimes, she could see shades of crazy in those gorgeous green eyes and worried that her father’s influence would shred her from the inside out. And…she was more than a little terrified that she was going to have to watch it happen to this incredible, witty, whip-sharp woman. Through all their conversations and secretly stolen hours, Laura knew – like an anvil or an angel in her gut – that Kate was hers in a marrow-deep, instinctive kind of way. It was irrepressible knowledge, set in an unshakable foundation that melded wolf and human into one intrinsic, resounding need. 

She knew that – even if she could drag herself away for the sake of her own sanity –living without this sense of home and completion (particularly after having experienced it) could only ever be a shadow of the life she could build. On days when she couldn’t see escape, it was an agonizing weight in her gut, and all she could do was cradle Kate in her lap and whisper affirmations into her hear. And on those days when she could fathom rebuilding their own world together, she could have sworn she had haloed wings. She just…had to get her away from him. They could do this – the two of them, if only she could pry her free of his cold, warping grasp.

~~~~~~~~~~

Incoming Call…

Missed Call.

Incoming Call…

Missed Call.

Incoming Call…

Missed Call.

From: 949-247-7727: 2:14  
Hey. Wake up.

From: 949-247-7727: 2:14  
I have something to show you. 

From: 949-247-7727: 2:21  
Come on sleeping beauty.

From: 949-247-7727: 2:23  
Anytime now.

Laura groaned as her phoned continued to chirp at her with its relentlessly high-pitched, mechanical notes, burrowing into her pillows in pathetic resistance. Eventually, she flailed in the general direction of her bedside table, and it was mostly by luck that she managed to catch her cell phone and tap out something that resembled a reply.

Sent: 2:25  
now? slkeepinh.

From: 949-247-7727: 2:25  
Always the best time.

Sent: 2:30  
do you even know what time it is

From: 949-247-7727: 2:30  
Are you asleep.

Sent: 2:32  
nt anymore

From: 949-247-7727: 2:32  
Then come.

Sent: 2:32  
i hate you

From: 949-247-7727: 2:32  
I know you do, cupcake. Now come.

Sent: 2:32  
where?

From: 949-247-7727: 2:34  
Out to the preserve where the ravine meets the big rock outlay by the river.

Frowning down at her phone, Laura blearily rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, succeeding only in making the world temporarily blurry. After staring down at her obnoxiously bright screen, she was gradually awake enough to realize that Kate was talking about Argent territory. The pack didn’t go into Argent territory. With Gerard at the reigns, it was not a safe place to be, even for humans with no association to the lunar cycle. In fact, the man was said to be all kinds of bat-shit crazy.

Sent: 2:37  
too dangerous at 3am.

From: 949-247-7727: 2:37  
Pussy.

Sent: 2:37  
right. i’m gonna sleep now

From: 949-247-7727: 2:38  
It's the safest place in the preserve.

Laura rolled over, hoping it would go away if she just buried her face in her pillow. 

From: 949-247-7727: 2:38  
Come on – just get out of bed. 

From: 949-247-7727: 2:39  
Lazy.

From: 949-247-7727: 2:40  
I won’t beg.

From: 949-247-7727: 2:40  
I won’t let you sleep either.

From: 949-247-7727: 2:40  
Come on – the stars are gorgeous. Just get out here already.

From: 949-247-7727 2:43  
Laura?

From: 949-247-7727: 2:44  
I SWEAR IF YOU ARE IGNORING ME, I WILL TICKLE YOU UNTIL YOU’RE BEGGING.

Growling at her phone from under her pillow, she chucked the feather sack at her bedside table and watched as the pillow just slide gracelessly, harmlessly to the ground. Fucking down feathers. Clumsily, she grabbed at the phone, intent on delivering a few choice words. However, she made the mistake of skimming her texts, and realizing that Kate was already alone, at night, in Argent territory unawares was enough to wake up every raw, paranoid nerve in her body. By the time she got around to throwing out a quick message, it was less scathing and more panicked than she’d intended.

Sent: 2:45  
youre where?

From: 949-247-7727 2:45  
Waiting on you here. Hurry up.

Fuck. The idiot was going to get shot. No, scratch that, they were both going to get shot and start a miserable inter-species war at the same time. Perfect. Even as the words were tumbling in haphazard, non-linear lines through her mind, Laura was up and pulling on clothes as she clumsily texted back.

Sent: 2:46  
b there n45.

From: 949-247-7727: 2:46  
Hurry up.

~~~~~~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the chapter delay folks! I had a sick weekend, and I wasn't up to stringing words together in any fashion that made non-feverish sense. So, here - have some more (mostly) fluff. And thanks for your patience with me!


	7. Fireworks and Friendship

Thirty minutes later, Laura was driving up to the edge of Argent territory, heart beating against her ribs in a futile attempt to jackhammer its way free and flop about on her lap in protesting consternation. Innately, she knew there was nothing wrong – or even particularly unusual – about an adventure into the preserve after dark. After all, of creatures that went bump in the night, werewolves were pretty much the top of the food chain. No, the really stupid element of this equation was the part that involved setting paws in Argent territory. That was a special level of stupid. A new low, in her carefully constructed rubric of duty and rebellion. 

However, even as she paced the boarder like a caged animal, she knew she was inevitably going to cross that invisible line. She was going to take that first, risky step…and every additional step after that until her feet led her to Kate. Even if (or rather, especially if) there were Argents out prowling their territory, she wouldn’t have been able to leave her human out there. Ultimately, it was that sense of pack-like possessive, worried unease that dragged her boot over such a dangerous line. Whether it was romantic or not, this human was her human, and that made this woman worth fighting for, if it came to that.

She just needed to get Kate out of there safely, before the wrong kind of someone found her all alone and defenseless. Humans didn’t recognize the stench of hunters and she couldn’t exactly explain that bloodthirsty, war-hungry bastards owned the land they were trespassing on. She’d just sound crazy, and she really didn’t need to sound any crazier than she already did on her own virtue.

Hurrying through the dark, she reached the particular rock outcropping in a handful of minutes, only barely remembering a minute earlier to hold up her cell as a light-source for her human charade. She actually saw better in the dark, without the glare of unnatural light, but for a human, that would be unnatural. And being ‘unnatural’ in Argent territory was actually more dangerous than waving around a bright, white light and stumbling through the underbrush like a graceless child. Not by much. But, perhaps a hunter in a generous mood might pause long enough for Laura to catch his scent. So, she tromped through the woods, moving just a fraction more quickly than a human might.

A few more quick steps brought her to rugged stone, and in the black stillness, her mind helpfully supplied that this would be a great set-up for a murder. No footprints. Plenty of tree cover for an assailant and no ground cover for the prey. Argent land. The chips were going to be seriously stacked the wrong way if this adventure went sideways.

If any of the Argent-cult were patrolling their woods, they probably wouldn’t bother to ask questions. Asking first wasn’t their strong suite. And they wouldn’t distinguish between Kate, the human, and Laura, the wolf, even if they did bother to think before pulling the trigger. The woods were so eerily dead quiet – the kind of quiet that kept nocturnal wildlife silent, the kind that of quiet that tended to precede hunters – that Laura found her claws itching to tear through human skin, in self-defense. There was an uncomfortable, wary itch creeping down her spine, and all she could think was that this was not how she would have wanted to introduce Kate to the existence of werewolves. 

Fuck, anyway but that would be fine by her. Almost any way. Ok, she had complicated feelings about revealing her specie-

“Over here!” a sharp whisper cut through the air, and Laura jumped, unable to hear much over the thudding pound of her own heart. She swore darkly under her breath as she spun to see Kate standing in the on top of a fairly flat boulder formation under the pitch-black shadow of a huge, looming mass of towering rock. “Scared?” The tone carried Kate’s patented mockery, and Laura raised her cell phone in one hand to highlight the way she flipped the other woman off with her other hand.

This just earned a light, amused chuckle, and the notes of that amusement almost felt like they were soothing down the werewolf’s spine, smoothing her hackles and slowing the wild beat of her heart. 

“You’re such a bitch,” Laura muttered, entirely certain that Kate had chosen that particular stretch of particularly inky darkness on purpose.

“I heard that.”

“I bet.” The werewolf shook her head, mildly irritated that she’d gotten so caught up in her nightmare imagination that she hadn’t even noticed Kate standing there, waiting in the dark like a creeper. At least her obliviousness made her look human, for whatever that was worth. Still, she couldn’t quite shake the stomach-knotting unease that came with this eerie silence. Where were the crickets? Owls? Rodents? Oh, right – Argent territory. “So, what did you have to show me at three in the morning in the middle of nowhere?” 

Kate grinned, a sharp, toothy smile that was only visible with werewolf senses, and Laura stepped right up to her friend’s craggy little pedestal of a boulder. 

Raising her eyebrows after a minute of curious, apprehensive quiet, Laura added, sarcasm infecting the lilt of each syllable as she held up her improvised flashlight, “Dead silence. Not creepy at all.” A pause, devoid of any natural nightlife noises, dragged out in the dark. “Uh…So. What’s up Kate?”

Kate chuckled, a mischievous, huffed burst of sound that was more than a little wickedly gleeful. “The dark really does make you antsy.” Taking Laura’s raised hand, she pulled the werewolf by the wrist, encouraging her onto the little platform-like structure. “Come up he- idiot, there’s a step there.” 

“It’s dark,” Laura groused defensively, falling into Kate when she finally made it up onto the platform. It was only partially accidental.

“Try not to trip and die on a rock,” Kate teased, merciless as always. “That would be just pathetic.”

“My epitaph will read: Murdered by a friend on a stupid rock at 3am. What a way to go.”

“Yeah, yeah – I can feel the ripe tragedy in every word. But don’t worry – I’d stage your body nicely.”

“That is not comforting,” Laura shot back, laughing despite herself as she tried not to slip backwards off the edge of the rock.

“Hey – its not my fault you have the balance of a foal. If you die from this, that’ll be on you,” Kate assured her, smirking with amusement that was so open and unguarded that Laura was certain her friend thought she couldn’t see. But, even from this distance, human eyes could pick up on that expression, surely. Right?

“Says the woman who woke me up at 3am and then made me balance on a slippery, moss-covered rock in pitch-black darkness. Sure. Totally not your fault.” 

“I have to admit, I did a pretty good job getting you out here at 3am.” Laura snorted in derision at the comment, but she couldn’t deny it. She was here, despite all odds. And common sense. And better judgment. And survival instincts. “Fuck, your arms – stop doing that. You’ll knock us both off. Just…take a step closer.” 

Werewolf senses caught the curved shape of something long and weapon-shaped, as her feet attempted to achieve some kind of equilibrium on the rounded edge of this boulder. She felt the warmth of a hand on her hip, distracting but not nearly distracting enough. “Uh, Kate…is that a bow?”

“Shh, you’ll ruin the surprise. Now step in here. Come on – I won’t bite.” Laura stumbled the half-step forward (due largely to a rather insistent yank on the belt-loop of her jeans), sneaking a look at the nasty-looking weapon stretched across Kate’s back. That was…some pretty high-grade weaponry. The werewolf wasn’t overly familiar with bows, but it was blatantly obvious that this wasn’t a hobby-level tool. Before she could comment, Kate added, chidingly, “Oh come on - you’re gonna have to get closer than that.”

Laura raised an eyebrow that only hiked up higher when she got a cheeky smirk in response. Fine – closer, then. She could take that challenge. Sure, maybe it wasn’t the healthiest life choice, considering how badly she wanted to be pressed up against every inch of warm skin she could reach. But that was a moral dilemma for another time, and it was, by far, not the worst decision she’d made tonight. The werewolf shuffled a few half-steps in from the slippery edge of stone, until they were almost chest to chest, and that part was fine. Better than fine – she could almost feel the warmth from her human’s body, and it was distractingly soothing, calming her wolf until concepts like ‘pack’ and ‘territory’ took a back seat to ‘gorgeous’ and ‘kiss’.

Still…the bow made her a little nervous. “Kate…”

“You asked what I do when I can’t take it any more. Remember?”

As demonstrated over the past several weeks, Kate had a tendency to say things with an inexplicable expectation that her listener would remember whatever random fraction of the conversation she was referring too. Typically, it frustrated Laura into being intentionally obtuse. But, just now, she knew exactly what conversation her companion was referring to. The first time they’d come out here, Laura had confessed to running through the preserve for stress-relief. Kate had admitted to using the preserve for a similar, but she wouldn’t say how. Her ‘secret’ methodology had become something of a running joke.

Until now.

“Oh.” Apparently, there was going to be a demonstration? “I remember.” They’d joked about it repeatedly, but she’d never forgotten the depth of Kate’s expression when she first mentioned it. Something settled, warm and happy in the pit of Laura’s stomach, and hypersensitivity to the silence fell into the background.

There was a pause, during which Kate stood stock-still in front of her, confident and steady. From this distance, Laura couldn’t help but notice the way blunt teeth worried that pretty, lower lip with repetitive scrapes, darkening the already attractive color. It took another moment in inaction, but finally Kate spoke up with her usual confidence, belied only by the spastic twitch of fingers on Laura’s hips, “I’ve only ever done this alone, so it’s just set up for one person.” Pregnant pause. “So, you’re going to need to get a bit closer.”

Closer? Laura’s eyebrow rose in another questioning arc, and Kate just mimicked the expression, eyes bright with sudden challenge. Of course – everything was a challenge, with Kate. Communicating with her was all about the nuance – the things she didn’t say. She didn’t explicitly say that Laura was the first person she’d ever been willing to share this with; she didn’t explicitly say she wanted to be closer. Kate never said what she wanted outright, almost as if wanting something might be taboo. Or as if the act of wanting something and speaking it aloud would ensure she could never have it. So the werewolf was learning to read between the lines, and right now, she was reading an invitation for very, very close physical proximity.

Meeting that challenge head-on, Laura stepped right into full-body contact, almost knocking Kate back with the sudden infiltration. For her part, the human steadied herself with tight fistfuls of Laura’s clothing, only to find hands on her own body keeping her balanced. They adjusted in each other’s space until they just clicked, limbs fitting together as each held the other in place, and Kate was a hard, solid line of heat up the front of Laura’s body. 

There was a rush of comfort, of home, of calm, of safety. 

Kate felt taller than she looked, and her body felt lean and firm where it was pressed against Laura. The woman smelled like oil, spice, and coffee, and underneath all that, something subtle and comforting. Home, maybe. If there was ever a human who smelled like she should have been pack, it was this one, and the thought was so abrupt and unsettling that Laura felt a bit dazed by the onset of warmth exploding through her chest. She could see Kate as pack, someday maybe, but she had no idea how to explain the instinct that sense came from. Hands brushed over her shoulder in a subtle cue to press in a bit closer, and Laura ran her hands up the small of Kate’s back – a movement that was rewarded with a hint of a shudder and a reassuring press of hands. Feeling bold, she tucked her head in at the juncture of neck and shoulder, resting there as Kate did whatever the hell she was trying to do.

There was a fair deal of twitched jostling, but it was almost as if Kate was making allowances in her own re-arranging to make sure they stayed as closely locked together as possible. So Laura had no complaints; she was too busy savoring the curve of clothed skin under her hand and the comforting flutter of this human’s heartbeat. Everything was warm and distracting, and the werewolf didn’t really notice what Kate was doing until it was too late. The woman had both arms around Laura, tangled and occupied near the small of her back and pulling the bowstring taunt. A bitter flare of worry burned like acid at the back of Laura’s throat in that icy instant when she realized a loaded weapon was drawn taunt at her back. “Wha-“

“Shh!” Kate ordered, and Laura froze, heart inexplicably locked in her throat. Her human wouldn’t hurt her. She wouldn’t.

Suddenly, the ringing twang of the bow cut the tension, launching something long and slender into the night sky. Relief washed hot and heady down her spine as Laura’s head tipped back, and both their gazes followed the tiny flickering light up until it was swallowed by darkness. Glancing back down at Kate, she took in the woman’s profile, beautifully cut against the pitch-black background. She had the prettiest pout to her lips, and large, thick-lashed eyes that were intently focused on the sky above them. Being this close without a loaded weapon to nag at her wolf, she felt affection slowly siphoning concentration away, leaving a soft smile on her own lips.

However, the abrupt explosion of color above their heads snapped the werewolf’s head upwards as she stared in a combination of shock, awe, and horror. Color washed across the sky in a sudden expanse of eye-catching vibrancy, igniting the darkness overhead with a shower of glistening, spellbinding lights. Bright oranges, reds, and yellows fanned out in an intricate, overlapping pattern, only to start falling like stars back towards the ground. The falling flames began to twist and glide like petals caught on the faintest whiff of wind, looping above and around them as gravity worked its magic. It was breathtakingly gorgeous – like the circle of night sky above them was liquid fire.

And then the sickening thought occurred to her that there was no way the Argents were going to miss that. No fucking way. “Uh, Ka-“

“Laura, shut up. It won’t kill you to enjoy the moment.” Alpha instinct briefly, indignantly reared its protective, dominant head, but…this was Kate, and her instinct tended to be markedly more flexible with her. And the woman had a point. Even Argents wouldn’t just come screaming into the hills at four in the morning. It would take them at least half an hour or so to arm the troops and get up here, assuming someone was up and looking in this direction to begin with. So, she inclined her head to the sky and watched the slowly burning fragments waft down to the earth as the last flaring edges of the fire-canopy lit a second round of fireworks that shot upwards even further. 

The modified fireworks – all three or four of them – were in shades of red and gold, breaking across the sky with their initial bang and then glittering like a hundred thousand stars falling to earth. Without realizing it, she held her breath as the last flickers of embers dotted the sky like twinkling stars; and these odd shapeless sheets of fire began gently floating back down to the earth, glowing softly and eerily as if they were still alight. They were like the initial petal-like embers from that first firework, but these were larger, and as they got closer, she could see that they were still actively burning.

Silence was anticipatory now, and there was nothing to say in the face of this mesmerizing, intimate fireworks display. The fire, the atmosphere, and the body beside her own were a stunning combination – a beautiful series of images and sensations seared into her memory in the best possible way. Laura was warm, tucked up against the length of Kate’s frame, and right now, she was too awestruck to do anything more than relish the moment, breathing in the smells and soaking in the sights. As the first of the sheets drifted to the ground, she felt Kate leaning into her, shifting her upper-body to subtly snuggle closer.

In that instant, it was all Laura could do not to kiss her.

One of the orange-glowing papers touched the ground, and then another. They went out almost immediately, blackening into dead ashes. But, when the fourth touched the ground, bright, hot flames licked along the ground, leaping across the stone like harsh curves and rocky crags could burn bright florescent red. Fire burned along the rough rock, sweeping out in three or four different directions all at once, and Laura’s eyes immediately widened, darting to Kate’s face in dawning wonder. 

However, her human was watching the display with the critical intensity of someone who put an incredible amount of thought and effort into a project. She was consumed by the performance, so Laura’s attention dropped back to the fire that rapidly spread around them in a lace-work pattern. It was terrifying and beautiful. Intricate and dancing. Alive and deadly. Hypnotic and alluring.

In the course of mere seconds, they were surrounded by a deliberate, breathtaking display crafted from fortune, planning, and fire, throwing flame-bright, moving light on the trees and rocks, the underbrush and earth. Everything was cast in stunning shades of red and orange as fire licked along the stone, writhing like a living creature woven into stunning design. It was like staring at a different planet – a different world. Everything around them was brought to life in a different light, overwhelming werewolf senses with the heady rush of new beauty. Eyes wide with undiluted appreciation and admiration, she finally dragged her besotted gaze back to Kate, only to find Kate already looking at her.

“You like it.” Was that relief in Kate’s voice?

Laura didn’t have to nod, but she did. “Its incredible – gorgeous…” she breathed, eyes flickering around to follow the tongues of flame that danced out around them in every direction. The cast of firelight was soft and inviting, reflecting in Kate’s eyes a warm, golden glow that was painfully, beautifully intimate.

“I thought you’d like it.” The words were confident, but the undertone that tainted the words was still relieved. 

“How’d you do it?” 

“Trade secret,” Kate grinned, trying and failing to restrain the delight in her voice. On those rare occasions when she was really happy or excited about something, she was never terribly good at hiding that emotion; it always came out in her eyes. They were magnificently expressive. “…You really like it?”

“You created a world of firelight. Just for me. Are you kidding? I love it!” She laughed through the last few words, completely caught up in the undiluted familiarity of this secret and the interlocking hold of their bodies. Her laughter died on a hitched breath as cold fingers traced the line of her jaw, gaze locking on her friend’s face with unmistakable intensity. The world narrowed down Kate – to the play of her expression and brush of her fingers. Flickers of orange and unhindered excitement lit Kate’s green eyes, and Laura’s head tipped forward, pulled in by a force that felt stronger than gravity – by the spellbinding enticement of that wanting stare. Her lips met Kate’s, hesitant, chaste and ready to pull away at the slightest indication. 

But there was none. 

Kate’s other hand gripped the fabric, stretching it taunt across Laura’s lower back as the dull clatter of bow on stone faded immediately into background noise. As if all the tension of the last few weeks burst at the seams, they kissed each other breathless, lips meeting with more enthusiasm than skill. There were several seconds that were – while hardly tentative – almost disbelieving, as if neither could quite grasp the reality that a fantasy of fire brought them. However, in the dying flickers of their fire web, that initial moment quickly gave way to impassioned, near-frantic kisses, hands scrambling to touch with an almost sacred sense of urgency. 

There was so much more Laura wanted. 

Everything. Love. Life. Mate. And as she licked into the heat of Kate’s mouth, the weight of that last word didn’t even faze her.

**Author's Note:**

> (Disclaimer: This fic was written before Hale folks began doing the (spoiler) things (spoiler) that they're doing in the current season. So, my Headcanon!HaleFamily deviates slightly from canon, and is probably most similar to depictions through the end of Season 2 or so.)


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